


Doing It Wrong

by mysticanni



Series: Rubber Ducks [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, Rubber Ducks, cocktails, talking to domestic appliances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: The toy ducks are stolen from the puddle.This may seem Very Dark for this series but I promise it contains the usual cocktails and romance.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor, Peter "Phoebe" Freestone/Chris "Crystal" Taylor
Series: Rubber Ducks [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593166
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	Doing It Wrong

The washing-machine bleeped to indicate it had completed its cycle. Phoebe hurried into the utility room to silence its cry by opening the door. He gave the machine an affectionate pat and thanked it. He supposed it was silly talking to an inanimate object but he strongly felt thanking the washing-machine warded off the threat of it breaking down resulting in the hassle of contacting someone to repair it and the expense of paying them to do so. 

John could possibly fix an appliance, Phoebe thought. John seemed very competent in general and especially good with electrical equipment. Although Phoebe suspected John would consider him extremely odd for talking to a machine. 

Phoebe had once given the ancient coffee machine in the cafe an encouraging pep talk in front of Roger. Roger, who sang while baking to encourage cakes and bread to rise, had understood this concept perfectly but Phoebe thought some people might think it was a strange thing to do. 

He wondered uneasily if Crystal would understand, as he pulled clothes out of the machine and deposited them in a basket. Phoebe had been dating Crystal since just after New Year and felt Crystal was still a mystery. In a way that was lovely: he could experience the thrill of discovering things that made Crystal happy, finding out more about him. Yet Phoebe sometimes thought he ought to know more about Crystal by now. He was aware some people thought they were an odd match. He had heard people talking about them when they did not realise Phoebe could hear them. The general consensus appeared to be that Phoebe was old-fashioned and soft and maybe a little bit eccentric, making him a strange choice for Crystal who was not perceived to be any of those things. Phoebe thought that if he had been hurt by the comments he had overheard then it was his own fault for listening to conversations he had not been intended to hear. None of his close friends had said anything to upset him. He found consolation in the fact that most of those he regarded as friends seemed delighted that he had found love. 

Phoebe opened the door leading from the utility room to the garden and shivered. It was a cold day in mid March. Earlier it had been raining but it was dry now and Phoebe was glad: he preferred to be able to hang the washing up outside. He pegged the washing on to the clothes line. He was being ridiculous, he chided himself. He had only been dating Crystal for a matter of weeks, really, so of course he didn’t know everything about him. Not that you could ever know everything about anyone, of course. He should not get carried away. Phoebe thought he had a tendency to get caught up in the excitement and promise of a new romance: day-dreaming a whole future for them as a couple, spanning a lifetime. That sort of thing often scared people away, he had discovered. 

He hoped his relationship with Crystal was not destined to be a short fling. He had never had feelings for anyone like he had for Crystal. 

*

Crystal watched the new assistant manager as he introduced himself to the staff. He seemed perfect. He had an air of authority while also exuding calm. He gave the impression he would deal with any issues that arose with competent, effective, aplomb. Mr. Beach had met everyone now with the exception of Roger, who now appeared, bursting through the door of the small staff room as if Crystal had conjured him into existence by thinking of him.

Roger was flustered, gasping for breath. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he panted. He was, most unusually, wearing his glasses rather than contact lenses and Crystal wondered what was wrong.

Mr. Beach frowned, evidently disapproving of poor time-keeping. Crystal whole-heartedly approved of this disapproval but made a mental note to let Mr. Beach know that despite being easily the most chaotic person Crystal knew Roger was rarely late. In fact, Crystal was not sure if Roger had ever been late before. He often arrived early, chatting to Crystal before starting his shift. 

Roger had skidded to a halt, eyeing Mr. Beach warily. He looked too pale, Crystal thought. ‘Roger, this is the new assistant manager, Mr. Beach,’ Crystal said, ‘Mr. Beach, this is Roger: he’s one of the bar staff.’ 

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Roger said.

Mr. Beach aimed a curt nod in Roger’s direction and Crystal felt uneasy. He wanted Roger and Mr. Beach to get along. He had considered Roger for the assistant manager role but Roger was too valuable as a creator of cocktails to be acting as a supervisor. He wondered how he could explain to Mr. Beach about Roger without sounding completely insane. ‘Mr. Beach will be in charge tonight,’ Crystal said, hoping he was doing the right thing leaving him in charge. Crystal was very much looking forward to wining and dining Phoebe, however. ‘I’m expecting you all to behave,’ he added, glancing at Roger.

Roger was staring at his pink sparkly shoes and did not meet Crystal’s eye. Crystal thought Mr. Beach was following his gaze and he feared he might have given Mr. Beach the incorrect impression that Roger was a troublemaker. He really must have a word with Mr. Beach about Roger before he left for his date. 

Mr. Beach was speaking to Joe about their food menu. Crystal pulled Roger into a one-armed hug. ‘You okay, Waif?’ 

Before Roger could reply, Tim approached. ‘Boss, can I have a word please?’

‘Sure,’ Crystal released Roger and walked to his office with Tim. He still had time to find out what was wrong with Roger and to speak to Mr. Beach before he left to get ready for his date. 

Tim asked to change his shift pattern as his wife’s working hours had altered and their childcare arrangements had been thrown into disarray. Figuring out the new shifts had taken Crystal longer than he had expected and by the time he left his office it was already half an hour later than the time he had intended to leave by in order to get ready for his date. 

Crystal bit his lip, torn between speaking to Mr. Beach about Roger and checking on Roger who hadn’t seemed his usual cheerful self, while also wanting to leave right away to prepare for his night with Phoebe. He decided to leave. After all, he reasoned, he was only taking one evening off. What could possibly go wrong?

*

Cat sat on the window ledge looking out at the street. She was concerned about Roger who had gone to work despite having an upset stomach that had kept him in the bathroom for most of the day. In Cat’s opinion he had not drunk enough water.

The curly haired man from next door left his house accompanied by his friend with the long dark hair and the yellow jacket. Yellow jacket blew Cat a kiss when he noticed her in the window and she regally inclined her head towards him. She narrowed her eyes towards curly hair. Cat thought Roger had been much too anxious about work since curly hair got him fired from his job as a tour guide. Roger was now on friendly terms with curly hair but Cat still blamed curly hair for Roger’s rash decision to go to work today. She supposed that at least he’d had the morning off from his other job with Phoebe in the cafe. 

*

‘Hello, darling, you’re new, aren’t you?’ Freddie greeted the man who appeared at their booth to take their order.

‘It’s my first day,’ the man confirmed, ‘I’m Jim Beach; pleased to meet you.’ 

Brian and Freddie introduced themselves. ‘You ought to be called Miami, darling,’ Freddie suggested. ‘New job: new name!’

When Roger came over with their drinks Freddie frowned. ‘Are you okay, dear? You’re very pale.’ He added, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in glasses before, either.’ 

Freddie thought Roger’s smile was forced. ‘I’m fine,’ Roger replied. 

‘And how is Miami doing on his first day, dearest?’ Freddie decided to change the subject. 

‘Miami?’ Roger echoed, looking bemused. 

‘It’s what Freddie has chosen to call Jim Beach,’ Brian explained.

‘Oh,’ Roger sighed, tucking the empty drinks tray under his arm, ‘I don’t think he likes me very much.’ 

‘I’m sure you’re mistaken, darling,’ Freddie patted Roger’s arm. ‘He seemed nice.’

Brian frowned. ‘Have you done anything stupid?’

Freddie thought Roger seemed more like his usual self when he grinned and said, ‘Not yet!’

Brian sipped his cocktail and smiled. ‘Try to keep that up.’

*

Crystal realised with increasing horror that he had just spent the best part of half an hour moaning to Phoebe about work issues. All poor Phoebe had done was ask how his day had been and Crystal had poured out all of his worries. Congratulations, Crys, he told himself savagely: you’ve just ruined another relationship when it has barely started. ‘I’m sorry, Phoebs, you don’t want to hear this. How was your day?’

‘I do want to hear it,’ Phoebe reached across the table and clasped Crystal’s hand. ‘I want you to feel you can tell me anything. I want all the details, all of you.’ He flushed and sipped some wine. ‘Does that sound a bit crazy stalker-ish?’ 

Crystal grinned. ‘I think I know what you mean,’ he assured Phoebe. ‘Thank you for listening.’

*

Roger felt light-headed from lack of food and his head was throbbing. He knew he was dehydrated but he had been struggling to keep even water down earlier and he didn’t want to have to sprint to the bathroom. He told himself firmly that he just had to make it to the end of his shift.

He felt the new man, Miami, was watching him which was making him nervous. He twirled a bottle of cherry liqueur as he had done a million times before. His hand cramped; a flash of intense pain and he watched dumbly as the bottle crashed to the floor, red liquid spreading like blood from a severed artery, glass glittering dangerously on the stone flagstones. ‘Oh,’ Roger breathed. Some of the bar’s clientele had whooped at the sound of breaking glass.

*

Miami shook his head. He was not impressed by this boy. First he had been late, then he had performed his job in mechanical near-silence and now he had broken a bottle. ‘Clear up that mess,’ Miami commanded, adding, ‘that bottle will come out of your wages.’

‘It was almost empty,’ the boy protested, sounding weary. 

‘It will be deducted from your pay,’ Miami informed him, ‘and there will also be a deduction for your late arrival today.’

‘Do you have the power to do that?’ Roger asked tiredly, ‘Crystal is in charge, not you,’ he added.

‘Crystal has left me in charge,’ Miami reminded him. Who did the impudent brat think he was? He was horribly aware of the other staff watching this exchange. It was dangerous to have his authority questioned in this way. ‘If you’re not careful I’ll dock your wages for your poor attitude!’ He regretted saying it immediately. He was losing control of the situation.

‘You can’t do that!’ Roger cried.

‘Watch me,’ Miami snapped. He was ashamed of how much effort it was taking him to maintain at least some semblance of calm. 

‘Crystal would never allow you to do that!’ Roger continued. 

‘I am in charge,’ Miami repeated, ‘now clear up this mess please.’ 

‘Oh, fuck you, Miami,’ Roger muttered under his breath.

‘I’ll take that as your resignation,’ Miami told him icily. 

‘Fine!’ Roger shoved past him and hurried out. 

*

‘What’s happening now?’ Freddie whispered to Brian, who was facing the bar. 

‘Roger seems to be flouncing off,’ Brian told him.

Freddie seized his phone, fingers flying across the screen, sending a message to Roger asking if he was okay. 

*

Phoebe was facing the window in the restaurant. ‘Roger will catch his death with no coat on,’ he murmured absently, glancing back down at the dessert menu. Then he looked directly at Crystal. ‘Shouldn’t Roger be at work for you, at the bar?’

Crystal swung around to look out the window then shot out of his seat, sprinting towards the restaurant door. ‘Roger?’ Crystal shivered as cold air assaulted him. Roger was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Crystal frowned: Roger had been wearing a coat when he arrived for work. He should also still be at work, not hurrying along the street, head down and arms folded defensively across his skinny chest. ‘Roger!’ Crystal called again, but Roger did not halt. 

Crystal ran after Roger, seizing his arm and spinning Roger towards him. Roger staggered, knocked off balance. He was evidently trying not to cry. ‘Hey,’ Crystal wrapped his arms around Roger, ‘what’s gone wrong, Waif?’ 

Roger’s breath hitched. ‘I’ve made such a mess of everything,’ he wailed, ‘how am I gonna house and feed Cat with just the cafe job? D’ you think Phoebe will give me more shifts?’ 

Crystal reflected that Phoebe would be delighted to have Roger working for him full-time. He realised that he had left Phoebe alone in the restaurant without a word of explanation. ‘It’s news to me that you are no longer working for me, Waif.’ 

‘Here,’ Phoebe was suddenly there, handing Crystal his jacket and wrapping Roger in a huge scarf. ‘I believe my house is nearest, isn’t it?’ 

*

Roger sipped peppermint tea at Phoebe’s kitchen table and explained what had happened. (And he was not crying, he was not; the cold had made his eyes water.)

Crystal sighed. ‘Waif,’ he shook his head, ‘you can’t tell your boss to fuck off.’ 

‘You’re my boss, not him,’ Roger muttered. 

‘He’s my assistant manager so he is your boss when I am not there,’ Crystal reached over and gently rubbed Roger’s back. ‘Why didn’t you call in sick, you idiot?’ he asked, feeling exasperated. ‘You get paid sick leave.’

‘Do I?’ Roger snuffled. ‘Oh.’

This caused Phoebe to tut, ‘You get paid sick leave from the cafe too and I think you ought to take tomorrow off, sweetheart.’ 

Crystal nodded in agreement. ‘Don’t come to the bar tomorrow either. That will give me time to sort things out with Miami,’ he grinned, ‘I’m glad Freddie came up with that name, it suits him.’ He squeezed Roger’s shoulder. ‘You will have to apologise to him.’

Roger nodded. He sighed shakily. ‘I didn’t mean to upset anyone.’ Tears spilled down his cheeks. ‘I just... I’m sorry Crys.’ 

‘You two just got off on the wrong foot,’ Phoebe said comfortingly. ‘He’ll love you when he gets to know you properly.’ 

Crystal hoped that was true. Roger was looking at Crystal hopefully, his face pale and tear-stained. ‘Do you really think you can fix it?’ 

‘Of course I can fix it, little Waif,’ Crystal assured him. He thought he sounded considerably more confident than he felt.

*

Tim brought drinks to Freddie and Brian. ‘What was all the drama with Roger about, dear?’ Freddie asked.

Tim told them, sounding worried. ‘Rog left without his coat. His wallet and phone are in the pockets. I’ll take it round to him after my shift. He seems to have his house keys, at least.’

At least that explained why Roger had not responded to any of the messages Freddie had sent. He frowned. ‘What do you think is wrong with Roger?’ he murmured to Brian once Tim had gone.

Brian considered this. ‘He does have a history of idiocy,’ he noted.

Freddie laughed. ‘Yes, but he’s normally a cheerful sunny idiot,’ he pointed out, ‘and Miami seemed sweet. I thought they would have liked each other.’ 

‘You met Miami for about two minutes,’ Brian said. ‘How can you possibly know what he is like?’ 

‘I can just tell, dear,’ Freddie informed him. He sighed. ‘I do hope Roger is okay.’ 

*

Miami felt sick. It had all been going so well. He had been enjoying this job. 

He felt the rest of the staff had started keeping their distance from him following the incident with Roger. He had wanted, needed, to exert his authority, to prove he was in control. He had not intended to create this tense atmosphere. The problem was, he reflected grimly, that he had not been fully in control of himself or the situation. 

Tim had cleared up the broken bottle and created the cocktail Roger had been making. Miami had escaped to the kitchen, thinking that the staff there would not have heard about the incident but he discovered he had vastly underestimated how quickly news spread. Joe, the head chef, had hesitated then said quietly, ‘Roger is very popular, you know. He is good to work with.’ 

It had been a warning, Miami thought, letting him know that his decision to fire Roger (although that was not, of course, what had happened, however much it felt like it) had been unpopular with the staff. He wondered uneasily if he had been too hard on Roger. Yet he could not have allowed Roger to undermine his authority on his first day in the job.

*

Crystal walked Roger home. Roger was bundled up in a cardigan Phoebe had produced and the huge scarf Phoebe had wrapped him in earlier. ‘I’m so sorry I ruined your date,’ Roger had told them before leaving Phoebe’s house.

They had both assured Roger that it was fine, he had not ruined anything. Crystal did wish he was cuddled up to Phoebe right now though, instead of out in the cold darkness taking Roger home. The whole point of hiring Miami had been to allow Crystal to spend more time with Phoebe.

Roger’s cat was waiting at the door for him. She hissed at Crystal but purred loudly as Roger stroked her. ‘I’ll get your coat and come right back with it, okay?’ Crystal told Roger, who nodded.

*

Cat permitted Crystal to pat her head as she left. He may have upset Roger (Cat knew that really the new employee had caused the upset and that Roger was not entirely blameless however Crystal was responsible for the new employee and Cat supported Roger wholeheartedly whether he was at fault or not therefore she felt Crystal had deserved her hiss) but Crystal was trying to make amends and so he was allowed to touch her. Also, Roger was fond of Crystal so Cat assumed he was not entirely without merit. 

*

Crystal almost managed to slip in to retrieve Roger’s belongings and slip back out again without being seen. Then Miami rounded the corner into the corridor as he emerged from the staff room. ‘Oh,’ Miami mumbled.

Crystal sighed. ‘I just need to take this to Roger,’ he said, waving Roger’s coat, ‘and then I’ll come back and we can have a chat.’ 

*

Roger was in pyjamas and Phoebe’s cardi when Crystal returned. He looked small and sweet. Crystal regarded it as huge progress that the cat did not hiss at him, merely ignoring him pointedly. Roger hung up his jacket and retrieved his phone. ‘Would you like tea?’ he offered.

‘Nah, Waif, I have to go and chat to Miami,’ Crystal pulled Roger into a hug. ‘You take care of yourself, Roggie...’ Pulling back, he eyed Roger speculatively. ‘I don’t suppose you know what cocktail Miami is?’

‘He’s a Chrysanthemum,’ Roger replied immediately. ‘Brandy based but heavy on the vermouth with a dash of absinthe...’

Crystal blinked. ‘Okay... Er... How do I make that, Waif?’

*

Crystal returned to the bar through the customer entrance and paused by the booth Freddie and Brian were occupying. ‘Roger’s all right,’ he assured them. 

‘Are you here to fire Miami, dear?’ Freddie wondered. 

Crystal shook his head. ‘I’m here to pour absinthe on troubled waters,’ he muttered. 

Tim was wide-eyed as Crystal loped around behind the bar and began to fix a drink. ‘Don’t mind me,’ Crystal advised him breezily, noting Miami at the end of the bar. ‘Hey, Miami,’ he grinned as Miami looked up, ‘grab that booth and I’ll bring the drinks over.’

Crystal made himself a Chrysanthemum too. He knew they wouldn’t be as good as Roger’s but he thought he had done okay. He slid into the booth opposite Miami and slid one of the glasses over to him. ‘I hear Freddie has re-named you Miami? It suits you.’ 

Miami sipped his drink. ‘I quite like being Miami, I think.’ 

‘Just as well,’ Crystal told him, ‘’cause I think it’ll stick.’ 

‘Does it matter,’ Miami wondered, ‘if you are firing me?’

‘Now, why would I do that?’ Crystal asked.

Miami flushed. ‘I mishandled the situation with Roger.’ 

Crystal shook his head. He sipped his own drink. ‘No. Well, yeah, you did a bit, but I should have told you my rules before leaving you alone. With lateness what action I take depends on the person. Roger has never been later before. He’s normally early. He was only late today by a couple of minutes and it turns out he wasn’t feeling well. 

We used to have a guy called Ray, though, and I let him go because he was habitually late by about half an hour and he never had a good excuse. Usually I give people three chances. Ray continued to be late so he had to leave.

With breakages,’ Crystal stirred his drink with his straw and shrugged, ‘I normally just let it go. We’re all human. I don’t think Rog has ever broken anything before either, until today.’

Miami nodded. ‘I was too heavy-handed. I was afraid he would undermine my authority.’ 

‘He would never do that intentionally,’ Crystal told him, ‘I mean, he’s a pain in the arse but he is a loveable pain in the arse. Please don’t tell him I said that.’ 

Miami smiled. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ 

Crystal cleared his throat. ‘Roger knows what he said to you was wrong.’ His stomach felt tied in knots. This could be the tricky part. ‘He will apologise, of course.’ 

‘Well,’ Miami sipped his drink, ‘perhaps I owe him an apology too.’

Crystal heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’ 

Miami waggled his glass. ‘What is this? I really like it.’ 

Crystal grinned. ‘Roger has this... gift... He assigns cocktails to people. This is apparently called a Chrysanthemum, don’t ask me why, and is your cocktail, according to Rog. I’ve never known him to get it wrong.’ 

‘I like it very much,’ Miami confirmed. ‘What’s your cocktail?’ 

‘Mine is called The Last Word,’ Crystal said. ‘It is some 1920s concoction and I do love it. You must get Roger to make this one for you: he’ll mix it far better than I have.’ 

*

‘What are you doing here?’ Phoebe asked when he found Crystal on the doorstep of the cafe the following morning, trying to shelter a little from the pouring rain. ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ Phoebe added, in case Crystal felt unwanted. He gave him a little peck on the lips. ‘Let’s get in out of the rain.’ 

‘I can’t bake,’ Crystal said, ‘but I can wait on tables. I figured that with Roger out of action you’d need an extra pair of hands. Plus I get to hang out with you so I’m really here for purely selfish reasons.’ He slid his arms around Phoebe.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Phoebe told him, ‘although we probably won’t be all that busy so you can go back to bed if you like.’

‘Bed is no fun without you in it,’ Crystal murmured, grinning as Phoebe blushed.

The cafe was busy and Crystal was glad he had shown up. By the time Phoebe was handing over to his assistant Mary for the lunchtime trade Crystal was exhausted. He was standing out of the way in the kitchen waiting for Phoebe to finish speaking to Mary when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and frowned when he saw that Roger’s long-distance boyfriend John was calling him. ‘John, hey, how’s things?’ he asked.

John got straight to the point. ‘What is wrong with Roger?’ 

Ah. Crystal hoped Roger was just tired and emotional due to his illness. He assumed if Roger had told John about the fiasco at the bar the previous night then their conversation would have started on a much less cordial note. Crystal hoped John never found out about the previous night’s incident. He suspected John would be terrifying if he was angry. ‘He’s been ill. Some kind of stomach bug, I think. He’s off work today. Phoebe and I are just going to go and check on him just now.’

Crystal could imagine John frowning during the silence that followed. ‘He was very upset on the phone just now,’ John said unhappily, ‘I couldn’t really understand what he was saying but I think it was at least partly about the toy ducks he puts in that big puddle at the end of the street when it is raining.’

Crystal frowned. ‘Well, we are going to see him now so we will look after him, John, don’t worry. I’ll call you back once I’ve spoken to him.’

‘Let me know if I need to come up there,’ John said. ‘I hate being so far away from him, especially if he is ill.’

Crystal reflected with some irritation that he had been taking care of Roger for a considerable period of time before John had met him. Then he thought about how he would feel if Phoebe had called him sounding upset and he could not immediately be with him. ‘I will take good care of him, I promise. We both will.’ 

*

Crystal used his door key to let himself and Phoebe into Roger’s house. ‘Waif, it’s just me and Phoebs,’ he called. He could hear Roger sobbing. The cat appeared in the hall, winding around their ankles and meowing at them. Crystal reached down and patted her head. ‘Okay, Cat, we’ll look after him,’ he murmured, then blushed, realising he was talking to the cat as if she could understand him in front of Phoebe. 

Roger was huddled in an armchair sobbing. When they entered, he jumped up and launched himself into Crystal’s arms, howling. Alarmed, Crystal wrapped his arms around Roger. ‘Hey, you’re okay, Waif, I’ve got you.’ Roger was trying to say something but was crying so hard that Crystal could not understand him. No wonder John had been worried about him. ‘Everything’s going to be okay, Rog, I promise,’ Crystal said firmly. 

Phoebe patted Crystal’s shoulder. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

Nestled between Crystal and Phoebe on the sofa with a mug of peppermint tea Roger calmed down enough to tell them what had happened. ‘Yesterday, I put some ducks in the puddle as usual,’ he explained. He gulped. ‘I wasn’t feeling well so I... To cheer myself up I used my favourite ducks: the two John bought me...’ He started to cry again and it was a moment or two before he continued, ‘The duck with the love hearts that John gave me on Valentine’s Day, Jemima Puddleduck, and the unicorn duck John gave me at New Year, Mistletoe, and my other favourite duck with the sunglasses, James Pond.’

Roger gave another little sob. ‘AndIwenttotaketheminjustnowwhileIhadtheengery,nowithasstoppedraining,andthey’vegone,’ he sniffled. 

Crystal frowned. ‘Didn’t quite catch that, Waif,’ he said. ‘Did you say they’ve gone?’

Roger nodded, sobbing again. ‘They’ve gone! Both the ones John gave me have gone!’

‘Someone stole your ducks out of the puddle?’ Phoebe gasped.

‘They’re gone,’ Roger repeated. ‘John will think I’ve been so careless...’ he wailed.

‘No, he won’t, Waif,’ Crystal reassured him. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong,’ he added firmly. If he found the toy duck thieves then he would kill them, he thought grimly, after he had tortured them for a bit. 

‘It was probably children who took them,’ Roger snuffled, ‘and I know I’m being ridiculous, I’m sorry. I’m over-reacting, I know.’ 

Crystal gently stroked his back. He supposed you couldn’t really torture children. Although he still wanted to. ‘You’ve been ill and you’re feeling miserable and losing the ducks was a shitty thing to happen. You’re allowed to be upset.’ 

‘I wouldn’t mind so much if I hadn’t lost both of the ducks John gave me,’ Roger said, his voice small.

*

While Phoebe tucked Roger into bed with a hot water bottle Crystal called John and explained what had happened. 

‘Some bastard stole his ducks?’ John gasped.

‘So it would seem. He thinks it might be kids.’ Crystal was glad that John seemed to be having a similar reaction to him regarding the punishments he would like to inflict on the thieves if he ever met them. He supposed children might find the brightly coloured toy ducks irresistible. He also thought that he had been correct about how John might behave towards anyone who had distressed Roger and again hoped John never found out what had happened at the bar the night before. ‘He’s calmer now. I think it was just too much for him to deal with when he wasn’t feeling well anyway.’ 

‘Should I come up there?’ John fretted. 

‘Aren’t you coming up next weekend anyway?’ Crystal asked. 

‘I am but this is only Tuesday, Crystal, that’s ages away,’ John snapped, immediately adding, ‘sorry, I just can’t bear to think of him miserable and unwell.’ 

‘I know,’ Crystal felt rather helpless. ‘We will look after him, though. Phoebe has made broth for him and we’ll keep an eye on him. Would you like to speak to him?’

*

John methodically started to re-assemble the toaster he had dismantled to ascertain what was wrong with it. He found this problem-solving, this act of repairing, of healing damaged goods soothing. ‘There now,’ he murmured to the pieces of the toaster, ‘I’ll soon have you working as well as you did when you were fresh from the factory.’ He flushed and glanced around to ensure none of his flatmates were within earshot. They would think he was crazy if they heard him talking to a toaster.

John suspected Roger would understand about talking to inanimate objects. He sighed. He had started working on the toaster in order to stop worrying about Roger but his thoughts kept straying back to him. He knew Crystal and Phoebe would look after Roger but he wanted to be the one looking after Roger. He wanted to be able to see for himself that Roger was okay.

He tightened a screw, thinking darkly that Crystal had not mentioned this Miami character firing Roger from the bar as a possible reason why Roger might be upset. Roger said Crystal had sorted everything out and that he mustn’t mention it to him but John would have liked to give Crystal a piece of his mind. ‘I didn’t make Rog any promises about not telling this Miami what I think of him when I meet him, though,’ John muttered to the toaster. 

*

Crystal popped in to see Roger again on his way to the bar in the evening. He met Brian and Freddie who had hopped over the fence between Roger’s garden and Brian’s garden to arrive at Roger’s door at the same time as Crystal. ‘Hi Crystal,’ Brian greeted him. ‘Are you here to see how Rog is?’

Crystal nodded. Roger’s door opened and Roger peered out, pale and looking tired. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘come on in.’

They all trooped inside, under the stern gaze of the cat, although she weaved around Crystal’s legs, almost as if she was pleased to see him. He reached down and brushed the top of her head with his fingers. ‘Oh!’ he heard Roger exclaim as he reached the threshold of the sitting room. ‘Oh, Bri, you found the ducks! Oh!’ He saw Roger fling himself enthusiastically at Brian, hugging him.

‘Found them?’ Brian sounded startled. ‘Well, I took them out of the puddle for you,’ he explained. ‘I didn’t think you would be up to fetching them yourself, since you’ve been ill and all...’ 

‘I told you we should have brought them round straight away,’ Freddie scolded him. ‘You went out to get them, didn’t you?’ he said to Roger, adding, ‘You really shouldn’t be running around while you are ill, dear.’ 

Crystal had to make a tremendous effort to unclench his hands from the fists they had formed into. Brian had been kind. Brian had been an idiot. Crystal wanted to punch Brian in the face. 

‘I thought someone had stolen them,’ Roger confessed. He laughed. ‘How silly that seems now! Thank you so much for doing that for me.’ 

Brian looked very pleased with himself and Crystal thought of how Roger had been breaking his heart over the disappearance of the bloody ducks earlier and wanted to wipe the smug smile off Brian’s face. Except Roger was giving him what he recognised as a Warning Look. ‘That was very nice of you Brian,’ he ground out through gritted teeth. ‘Would anyone like tea?’ 

*

‘I feel like such an idiot now,’ Roger told John peering at him on his phone screen and thinking he really must clean it. His fingers must be filthy to leave such smudges. 

‘I will kill Brian,’ John seethed. ‘What the hell was he thinking of? Why didn’t he bring the ducks to you immediately?’

‘He was on his way to lunch with Freddie,’ Roger explained. ‘And I think it slipped his mind until later. Do you think there is anything going on between them?’

‘Between Brian and Freddie?’ John considered this. ‘Nah... Or... Maybe?’ 

Roger flopped back on his pillows. He was in bed, with Cat nestled against him. He seemed to have stopped being sick but felt exhausted. He thought uneasily that he probably didn’t look all that wonderful and reflected that he shouldn’t have agreed to a video chat. ‘I think Freddie likes Brian,’ he mused, ‘I think Brimi might be a bit oblivious though.’ 

John snorted. ‘Brian needs to pay more attention to everything going on around him,’ he snapped.

‘Promise me you won’t say anything to him about the ducks,’ Roger said, ‘He was doing something nice to help me.’

John sighed. ‘Okay, fine, I won’t say anything to him about it.’

*

Roger returned to work at the bar on Thursday night. He was early, bringing scones for everyone to share. ‘You make the best scones,’ Joe said, giving him a quick hug, ‘they are even better than mine.’

Roger smiled. ‘High praise from the chef,’ he laughed. He looked at Miami, who had just entered. ‘Hi,’ he said, taking a deep breath before continuing, ‘I am so sorry that I upset you on Monday. I am sorry I was so rude to you.’ 

‘Yes, well, I am sorry I upset you too,’ Miami said softly. ‘Perhaps we could start again?’

Roger nodded, ‘I’d like that.’ 

*

John arrived on Friday night, just before closing time. He slid into the booth Freddie and Brian were occupying. Roger waved to him from behind the bar, smiling brightly.

‘He seems to be back to normal,’ Freddie assured John, seeing him gazing at Roger.

Roger did seem his usual self when he brought drinks to their table. He gave John a kiss. ‘I’ll be free soon,’ he murmured.

‘Good,’ John kissed Roger again, ‘I’ve missed you,’ he told him. He watched Roger as he walked back to his place behind the bar. He looked at Freddie and Brian. ‘Where is this Miami bloke?’ 

‘Not on duty tonight, darling,’ Freddie told him, ‘and he’s lovely, really, it was just a misunderstanding. Roggie is getting on just fine with him now.’ He eyed John speculatively and John had the uncomfortable sensation that Freddie could see right in to the heart of him. ‘You’ll like, him, dear, I promise. And you really mustn’t blame Crystal either.’ 

‘Roger was upset,’ John muttered.

‘He was, darling, that’s true, but he is fine now,’ Freddie pointed out. He added firmly, ‘Just let it go, John.’

John sighed. He knew Freddie was right. He allowed himself a small glare at Brian, who was sipping his cocktail and didn’t notice. He supposed everything had worked out okay and that the important thing was that Roger was happy again now. All he needed to do now was to work out how he could be with Roger all the time and then everything would be perfect.


End file.
